TWENTY-FOUR HOURS IN ROME

A ROMAN HOLIDAY

When you only have a day to spend in Rome, and by you I mean us, you pack an entire three days into one with precision scheduling. I'm the drill sergeant and my plebes do and did what I said

5:00pm July 31, 2019
Dropped off at our hotel, La Residenza, just off the Via Veneto by a pre-arranged driver. Two large bags two carry-ons and two personal items that are really the size of small suitcases always makes arranging for a driver the best way to navigate the journey from Fiumicino Airport into the city and directly to our hotel. An expenditure well worth every penny.

An air-conditioned room with a wonderful view, a quick shower and a short nap gave us a second wind and the will to do everything we could to make sure we didn't leave Rome with the taste of regret in our mouths

7:00pm
Cocktails were concocted and served by the ever-faithful Alessandro, mixologist at La Residenza,  who now knows us by name. Each time we come he finds a new way to create a special drink for the occasion of our return. This year it was an espresso martini that tickled the tongue of our welcoming first sip of Roman hospitality

Not to stop there, this was followed by a magnificent bruschetta with buffalo mazzorela as we waited for our friend, JoHannah, to arrive from San Francisco and join us in the Italian part of our rigorous non-relaxing respite in Rome

8:00pm-10:30pm
With Johannah in tow it was down to the hotel's restaurant and a dinner of fettuccini carbonara a Roman staple. This did us all in along with the travel; one airline transfer for us but two for Johannah with long stretches of wait time in between flights. It was all it took before one by one we crashed and were off to bed

9:00am
Breakfast of parmesan eggs and bacon, yogurt with peaches, an entire counter of sweets along with fresh pineapple juice and cappuccinos all served on plates or in cups with the hotel's emblem

10:30am
Now for what we came to Rome to see and do- shopping. Forget the Vatican or the Colosseum we headed right to the Spanish Steps and down the Via Condotti. Despite the ninety-degree heat, shopping is a sports event and you play the game rain or shine.

First stop - COS. I know they have this brand in both San Francisco and New York but there's something about picking out that piece with an Italian hang tag that makes it that more special. Not a one of us walked out that store without a bag with a COS label dangling from the crook of their arm.

12:00pm
Rome tradition has many shops closing during the noontime only to open again later in the afternoon. Didn't matter to us. It was after twelve meaning it was cocktail time somewhere. We went inside and sat down for drinks at Ginger  where it was cool both in temperature and atmosphere

1:00pm
Next up was a stroll through the Piazza Navona and then on to a funky district just beyond where most tourists fear to go.

The shops and sites in the area we went to can appear to be slightly dirty and slightly naughty. The shops can run cheap to expensive but they are always entertaining

2:00pm
Food, glorious food at Etabli. For anyone who has followed our past posts on our trips to Rome this might seem like a broken record. I'm not going to apologize. We have our favorites and we're sticking with them.

The menu: Johannah and I split an avocado salad

and fettuccini with bacon in a pomodoro sauce

while Rick had a tomato and mozzarella salad and a full plate of the same fettuccini as we had but he had it all to himself. He didn't gain a pound. Johannah and I, I'm sure, gained what he lost on only half of what he ate. I hope you're feeling our pain

3:30pm
Some final shopping where I picked up my second silver bracelet from TOKO. My first was a birthday present from Rick on last year's trip. It was my big indulgence and one I had been planning since we decided to make this trip. Rick, surprisingly, got in the jewelry game as well and purchased a ring. This was a big step on the far side for him but bravo to his boldness.

We topped off our shopping with a walk into Society, a housewares and clothing shop where we could look but not touch.

Fine linen was the name of the game with a color palette that was right up our alley. Tablecloths ran the gammet from very expensive to outrageously expensive. All we could afford was a dream and a business card.

4:30pm
This was about all my comrades could take. I put the wimpy duo of Rick and Johannah in a cab and sent them back to the hotel for an old folks nap

while I walked back doing some site-seeing on my own sneaking through passageways too narrow for cars with more than three wheels to squeeze through

Or alleys too dingy they scared away the least adventurous  too afraid to walk through a space hung with netting and shredded plastic art

There were more churches to explore with amazing domes

Including the Pantheon that I had been looking for and only stumbled on unexpectedly.

One could have only hoped to run into this guy unexpectedly or intentionally but as many places of God that I went into he never appeared

The last church I made it into before I ran out of steam was the Church of S. Ignazio di Loyola with its unbelievable ceiling

and statuary.

6:00pm
Back to the hotel for shower number two. Remember it was ninety degrees outside

7:30pm
Back out and into a cab to the Galleria Alberto Sordi

where Rick did a little business with Massimo Dutti at their 70% off sale

8:30pm
Dinner at Nana, another repeat for us for one of the best fish meals any of us had ever had.

Our waiter brought out a platter with the fish of the day and convinced us to select a branzino big enough to feed all three of us hungry souls.

The branzino was baked in a thick crust of sea salt along with a set of six prongs, two for each of us.

We ate like royalty and drank like sots.

10:30pm
Before we returned to the hotel we ambled around the corner from Nana's to throw a coin into the Trevi fountain insuring we'd once again come back to the ancient city of Rome.

EUROPE 2019 THE START

AND IT BEGINS

Passports. Check

Tickets (Purchased with points). Check

Reservations for an evening of drinks atop Gaudi's La Pedrera. Check

Root canal. Check

I don't know if cursed is the right word to encompass our frequent travels to places requiring a passport but it seems every trip has a preliminary snag, a monumental hurdle to cross before we can set foot on foreign soil.

There was the "Oops I didn't know I could book my plane seats online" trip. That one relegated the three of us to different seats scattered about the cabin leaving me in the very last row with a six hour flight in a seat that wouldn't recline next to a woman with a cat that peed all over its crate forming a pool of rank piss at my feet.

Then there was the time I zipped out of the driveway with a car so loaded with luggage it totally obstructed any view I might have as I tried to go backwards as fast as I could in an effort to get us to the airport to make a flight we were minutes away from missing. Driving backwards has never been my forte. The lack of any view combined with my iffy backward driving skill was what precipitated the immediate collapse of the right rear tire as I rammed into the driveway's concrete embankment virtually ended our trip before it even began. For this I continue to send my love and business to Broadway Tire who had us back on the road with a full ten minutes to spare before our flight might have left without us.

This time it was my upper right first bicuspid that cracked in half due to what I considered a healthy snack of fresh peaches, plain Greek yogurt and roasted lightly salted almonds on July 29th, the day before we were taking off for our three week holiday in Europe. It was the almonds that did it.
"Hello Dr. Greene. Do you think you could squeeze me in for a little root canal work?"
I guess it was better it happened before we hit Italy. I was having visions of some grizzly Italian farm hand with a pliers and a sadistic grin.

Temporarily capped and medicated we somehow managed to turn tragedy into triumph and boarded our plane in the fashion we are accustomed to decked out in our finest travel attire and matching luggage. One overly friendly giddy woman stopped and gushed, "You two look like a pair of models" and then passed on by with her hand pressed to her cheek and a Cheshire grin on her face. Made my day.

It's now July 31st and we're on the last leg of our flight to Rome. I need a nap or an intravenous shot of potent espresso to get me through the next hours of oncoming jet lag and the desire to feel my head on a goose down pillow in an air-conditioned room smelling of basil and Italian roses.

FAT TUESDAY IS ALWAYS FOLLOWED BY ASH WEDNESDAY

POLISH PACZKI

Last week it was Ash Wednesdaytherefore the day before was Fat Tuesday meaning it's a free-for-all at the pastry counter at our gourmet food emporium and I have a major sweet tooth always waiting to be satisfied.

I don't know how I've avoided any tooth loss due to the boxes of Good & Plenty's, snickerdoodles or the ubiquitous Wisconsin cream puff I've consumed as a child and young adult. Maybe growing up in Wisconsin where every meal and snack was accompanied by a huge glass of ice-cold milk saved my incisors. I was never in danger of a calcium deficiency. It wasn't due to enforced dental care either. My Mom was a true country girl and a mint flavored toothpick picked up at the local restaurant we went to on our twice a year dining out excursion was as close as we got to teeth cleaning.  Somehow I've made it to adulthood and beyond with all my teeth still intact including a couple of back molars that never made it above the gum line.

Wisconsin's culinary claims to fame have mostly been tied to beer and cheese but there's a strong food network built around ethnic sweets as well. The Germans gave us their sweet chocolate cake and pfeffernusse at Christmas.

The Danes gave us the kringle.

I don't know who brought elephant ears to the table but we had them grilled letting the sugar caramelize and ooze over our breakfast plates way back when I was a child.

Growing up our neighbor was what could be described as one of the first supermarkets in Madison. We had back access to the store letting us in right at the pastry counter where fresh doughnuts, pies and cakes were brought in daily. Glazed, crème filled, sugared and sprinkled were laid out under a tiered glass case. During the summer the neighborhood mom's would rotate a midmorning coffee klatch requiring one of us to run next door and collect a couple dozen doughnuts of our choice. Bismarks, Long Johns, fritters and a host of yeasty doughnuts in a myriad of flavors and icings sat on wax paper trays ready for the picking.

There were chocolate, vanilla and cinnamon doughnuts to chose from.

A favorite of mine was the bakery's petit fours that they called little cakes iced with butter cream frosting and rosettes so sweet and sugar laden your teeth hurt once you bit into one.

The pastry counters of Wisconsin haven't changed much since then but the market has become a bit more sophisticated. The counter has now extended to include handmade truffles, hand-dipped strawberries and gourmet popcorn.

Madison has also become a leader in the American chocolate industry. CocoVaa, Candinas Chocolatier and Gail Ambrosius have started and stayed in Madison. CocoVaa in its initial entry won a 2018 Grand Master Chocolatier Award at the Internaitonal Chocolate Salon competition in Paris; a feat few seasoned chocolatiers have earned.

I almost made it out of Wisconsin on Fat Tuesday without falling for a stop for a last sugar rush before sweets would be taken away for lent. I had a flight to New York but to get there I had to pass my local market knowing they'd have a table piled high with Polish Paczki. They only sell them the week before lent. They're pronounced POOCH-key, a jelly filled doughnut either iced or sugar coated and the size of a ten ounce filet mignon. I kept pinching my spare tire as I neared the market but it wasn't enough of a deterrent. I pulled in and there was the table.

The last day they'd have this table stocked with six packs of Paczki, a package of six on sale for $3.99. You could chose from raspberry, Bavarian custard, lemon or prune. With these you can get your sugar fix and regularity all at the same time. Is there any wonder tractor butt has Wisconsin origins?
So if you see me during lent please don't comment on my butt and know I ate all six before Fat Tuesday turned into Ash Wednesday. Do you think I might be a candidate for  JLo's ten day no sugar, no carb diet? I doubt I could survive.













THE GALLERY

American Fair #183, 2015
Pamela Littky, photographer
Represented by Weiss Katz Gallery, New York